


The Sweetest Leaves

by moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Exy, Fluff, Friendship, Multi, No Angst, Softness, Tea, Tea shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: In which Neil makes tea, Matt tries to ask Dan out on a date, Allison loves gossip, Andrew is known as the grumpy record store guy, and Aaron isn't getting married.





	The Sweetest Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lolainslackss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/gifts).



> The completely self-indulgent tea shop AU I didn't know I needed. Inspired by a conversation I had with lolainslackss and a Carol Ann Duffy poem (see below).

**_Tea - Carol Ann Duffy_ **

_I like pouring your tea, lifting_  
_the heavy pot, and tipping it up,_  
_so the fragrant liquid streams in your china cup._  
  
_Or when you’re away, or at work,_  
_I like to think of your cupped hands as you sip,_  
_as you sip, of the faint half-smile of your lips._  
  
_I like the questions – sugar? – milk? –_  
_and the answers I don’t know by heart, yet,_  
_for I see your soul in your eyes, and I forget._  
  
_Jasmine, Gunpowder, Assam, Earl Grey, Ceylon,_  
_I love tea’s names. Which tea would you like? I say_  
_but it’s any tea for you, please, any time of day,_  
  
_as the women harvest the slopes_  
_for the sweetest leaves, on Mount Wu-Yi,_  
_and I am your lover, smitten, straining your tea._

*****

The little bell above the door trills to announce a new customer. The noise of the rain swells for a moment, then dulls again as the door falls shut. The newcomer stamps the water from his boots and shakes his wet hair out of his face. Several interested pairs of eyes track him across the room, but he doesn’t pay them any mind and makes a beeline straight for the counter.

“Kevin,” Neil greets him, automatically reaching for the mug with the chess piece on it that has become Kevin’s somewhere along the way. “The usual?”

Kevin swipes a hand through the air in affirmation and launches into a rant about a wrong shipment he received today without so much as a hello. He has an antique bookshop down the street, with a focus on history. Every day at precisely eleven a.m. he comes over for a cup of tea and a rant, like ill-tempered clockwork.

Neil scoops tea leaves into a strainer and lets Kevin’s voice jostle for space with all the other noise in the café. A plate of small triangular cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off is already waiting. Kevin takes his Irish Breakfast with a splash of almond milk, unless he’s hungover, in which case he prefers a generous squeeze of lemon and a half teaspoon of brown sugar.

“Busy today?” Kevin asks with a glance around the shop. Neil hums and shrugs. The rain has chased a lot of people inside. The air is muffled in the thick, damp wool of conversation and the steam of the samovar in the corner. Neil feels like he could disappear. It’s soothing.

“Well, I will leave you to it,” Kevin says and neatly stacks his empty mug on his empty plate. “Come by the shop later, I have a book that might interest you.”

He always says that and Neil always says yes. The truth is that he isn’t particularly interested in the history of tea or coffee shops or whatever else Kevin has found that he thinks is relevant for him, but he doesn’t really have the heart to tell him that.

Maybe he’s grown soft with age. It’s not too bad.

*

“Oh no, oh no. Neil, oh no.”

“What is it, Matt?” Neil sighs. “Did you burn your hand on the milk steamer again?”

Matt just makes a pained noise and tries to hide behind Neil, despite the fact that he’s more than a head taller than him. Neil catches a glimpse of the clock, startled to see that it’s already past five, and prods Matt out from behind him with gentle jabs.

“Christ, Matt, just go and talk to her. Make her a Gentle Giant on the house if you want.”

“I can’t, Neil, she’s too good for me,” Matt whines, wringing his hands. The object of his distress has just taken her usual place at the window, stretching out her sore feet after a long day’s work and looking out at the relentless rain. She’s pretty, Neil supposes. There’s no wedding ring on her hand, and so far she’s only ever come here by herself or with friends.

“You are hopeless,” Neil tells Matt and quickly fixes a pot of the Gentle Giant tea he created when Matt first started working for him. It’s a blend of sweet honeybush, chamomile and cinnamon, perfect to come home to at the end of a hard day. He lays out a tray with a little jar of honey, a slice of lemon and a plate of digestives and plops it in Matt’s hands before he can protest.

“Go,” he commands, giving him a push. “Her name’s Dan, okay? I heard her friends calling her that the other day. Go get her number, champ.”

“Dan,” Matt echoes, dazed. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Neil agrees, and watches him go.

*

Renee likes to come in on Sundays after church.

She’s been a regular for over a year now, so she gets her own blend – a delicate white tea with jasmine and hints of spearmint and nutmeg – that Neil calls Heavenly Delights. Sometimes she orders a slice of cake, the lemon rosemary being her favourite, and she always brings a book of poems or prayers to read, curled up in the armchair that Neil found at a flea market and had re-upholstered.

Occasionally, she and Neil will have friendly arguments about religion and spirituality if the shop isn’t busy, like a verbal sparring session. Other days Renee will bring a new recipe book for them to pore over, trying to decide which cake or treat Neil should start selling next in the shop.

“How are the cats?” Renee asks when Neil brings out his newest creation for her to test, little Earl Grey cream cakes with lavender.

“Shedding a lot,” he says darkly and slumps into a chair. “I feel like half my free time at home is spent chasing after them with a vacuum cleaner.”

“They must be getting their winter coats,” Renee smiles. She bites into a cake, leaving a smear of powdered sugar in the corner of her mouth. “These are good. Maybe a little too sweet?”

“If they’re not getting their winter coats, they’re getting their summer coats,” Neil laments. “I’ll use less sugar next time.”

“How is your special blend coming along?”

“Ugh,” Neil says, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t ask.”

“Tough one, hm?” Renee grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Neil scrubs at his face and thinks of the person he’s creating this blend for. There’s really no excuse why he doesn’t have one for him yet, but every time Neil tries, he’s just… blank.

He will figure it out, though. He always does.

*

“I come bearing news!”

Allison announces her presence the moment she steps through the door. Everyone in the shop looks up, wondering what this woman swathed in satin and expensive perfume is doing in a shabby, cosy hole-in-the-wall like this, with her oversized designer sunglasses and her deathly high heels. Allison has the talent to always look like she’s exactly where she wants to be though, and soon their attention turns elsewhere again.

“News or gossip?” Neil asks dryly as Allison leans over the counter with a rustle of fabric and kisses his cheek, leaving behind an impression of wild roses.

“Is there a difference?” Allison shrugs, flicking her hair over one shoulder.

“Is it about Neil’s crush?” Matt asks eagerly, spilling coffee grounds in his excitement. Neil rolls his eyes, takes a cold brew called Gossip Queen out of the fridge and pours some into a glass with plenty of ice and some fresh mint leaves for Allison.

He serves up a slice of cheesecake as she serves up the gossip: “I talked to a friend who heard from a colleague that grumpy record store guy, aka Neil’s crush, aka short blond asshole, was seen in town on Monday, buying something at the jeweller.”

She lets a weighty pause drop on them, sipping meaningfully from her straw. Matt sucks in air through his teeth and shoots Neil a sympathetic look.

“Shit. Does that mean he’s taken?”

Allison tips her head from side to side.

“Maybe he bought something for his mother.”

She and Matt continue to speculate. Neil glances out the window at the tiny record store on the opposite side of the street, tucked between Allison’s boutique and Renee’s flower shop. The window display looks dim and dusty as usual, the hand-painted sign above the door is swaying slightly in the wind.

A jeweller? Andrew?

“He has a twin,” Neil finds himself saying absently. “It was probably him.”

Matt and Allison stare at him.

“How do you know that?” Allison wants to know.

Neil shrugs awkwardly and grabs a rag to wipe down the gleaming counter. They’ve been so immersed in their theories about ‘grumpy record store guy’ that Neil hasn’t found a good way to tell them yet – and besides, they’ve never thought to ask. He’s about to open his mouth and ruin their fun once and for all when Dan passes by the shop and Matt makes a strangled noise and ducks down behind the counter.

“I thought you have a date with her on Friday?” Neil asks. Allison gasps and leans over the counter to grab at the straps on Matt’s apron and pull him back up.

“Matthew Donovan Boyd, you dog! Tell me everything.”

*

To celebrate Matt finally asking Dan out on a date, Neil creates a spicy hazelnut chai and calls it Pep Talk because that’s exactly what Matt needs before the date. Neil makes him a cup and tells him all the reasons why she’d be lucky to have him as her boyfriend, then gives him the rest of the day off and sends him home.

Nicky comes in not long after, sunshine in his hair and a cheerful melody on his lips. He’s in charge of the shop’s social media presence and Neil suffers through ten minutes of stiff posing behind the counter so Nicky can post a picture of him on Instagram. In the end, Nicky gives up and goes for his glass of dirty chai latte instead to promote the new blend, and Neil relaxes again.

Nicky retreats to a table with his laptop and Neil asks him to mind the shop while he goes across the street and brings Andrew a cup of hot chocolate and some of the new cookies to try. Music is blasting from the speakers as usual and Andrew is buried in his swivel chair, feet up on the counter and a music magazine on his lap. He barely glances up when Neil deposits his offerings on the counter for him, but he snags one of the matcha pistachio cookies and takes a bite.

“Allison and Matt were gossiping about you again,” Neil informs him, propping his chin in his hand.

“So?” Andrew says.

“I think maybe I should tell them.”

“Then tell them.”

Neil hums vaguely and contents himself with simply watching Andrew read and sip his hot chocolate. He likes that this is something that belongs to just them still. Nicky and Aaron know, and Renee probably does, too, but other than that it’s nobody’s business. The thought of telling anyone else makes Neil feel wistful, like something special is inevitably coming to its end.

“You weren’t planning on proposing to me, were you?” Neil blurts out without meaning to. Andrew looks up from his magazine, eyebrows arched, and Neil feels hot and electric like he always does when Andrew turns his full attention on him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says and shakes out his magazine.

“Right,” Neil says, “of course not. I’ll get back to work, then. See you at home.”

“It’s your turn to clean the litter boxes,” Andrew reminds him without looking up.

“Love you too!” Neil calls over his shoulder, already on his way out.

*

Matt is useless the next day. He spends most of his shift staring dreamily into space and telling Neil all about his date even though he already texted him the details late last night. Neil parks him in a corner with a breakfast bagel and checks on the handful of customers that crawled in on a dreary Saturday morning. Then he retreats behind the counter with a cup of lemon matcha tea and tries to read at least a few pages of Kevin’s latest book.

Andrew shows up around lunchtime and makes a beeline for the armchair. Neil takes one look at his face and fixes him a big pot of smoky Russian Caravan, adding a jug of cream, a bowl of rock sugar and the rum raisins that Andrew likes to the tray.

“What do you want to eat?” Neil asks him, setting everything down on the table. There are dark purple smudges brewing under Andrew’s eyes. Neil knows he didn’t sleep well last night and probably skipped breakfast this morning.

“Brownies,” Andrew says hollowly.

“Pasta salad it is,” Neil hums, and leaves him with the tea.

He does bring over one of the fudge brownies after Andrew has painstakingly eaten half his bowl of pasta salad. Andrew catches his sleeve, holding on to it for a moment to express his gratitude, and Neil resists the urge to lean down and kiss the tousled hair at his temple.

He gets waylaid by Matt behind the counter.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, “holy shit, Neil, that’s grumpy record shop guy! You finally talked to him!”

Neil sighs. “Matt…”

Matt pulls him into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you! All that time you were mooning over him from afar-”

“Matt,” Neil says, louder. “Andrew isn’t my crush.”

Matt lets him go and frowns.

“What?”

“Andrew is my partner. We live together.”

It would be almost comical, the way Matt’s mouth gapes open. Neil is too worried about Andrew to laugh at him for it, and if he’s honest he hasn’t slept much either. Not that Andrew keeps him up when he’s having a bad night, but his mere absence from their bed is always loud in Neil’s ears.

“That’s a joke,” Matt finally says, chuckling nervously. “Right? You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope,” Neil says. “No joke.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

Neil shuffles awkwardly and tries to explain that he didn’t know how. Matt only started working at the café a few months ago, and then he and Allison started speculating about Andrew and noticing the way Neil sometimes stared across the street when Andrew took a smoke break and – it’s hard to get a word in edge-wise with these two when they’re in full gossiping mode.

“Silly,” Matt says, ruffling his hair. “You should’ve just told me. I can’t believe we teased you about having a crush on your boyfriend. That’s kind of cute, actually.”

Neil sticks his tongue out at him and goes to check on Andrew again.

*

Early Monday morning washes up a bleary-eyed Aaron on Neil’s doorstep. Neil’s only just opened the shop, everything smells like freshly ground coffee and the radio is burbling away in the kitchen. Aaron’s heavily pregnant girlfriend has requested some of Neil’s apple and carrot breakfast muffins, and Neil makes Gunpowder green tea and bacon sandwiches for Aaron while they wait for the latest batch of muffins to finish baking.

“Hey, so, are you and Katelyn getting married any time soon?” Neil asks casually over the rim of his cup, inhaling the steam. Outside, morning light is unfurling like tea leaves. Aaron cups his hand around a yawn and blinks.

“Not until after the baby,” he says, scratching at his stubble. “And probably not until we both finish med school. Why?”

“No reason,” Neil shrugs. The oven pings and he goes to take out the muffins, placing them on a tray to cool.

Other customers start to arrive and Neil barely has time to fill a box with muffins for Katelyn and wave goodbye at Aaron. It’s Matt’s day off and half the town seems to be out and about, soaking up the autumn sun. Neil doesn’t really get to enjoy it because he’s rushed off his feet, stopping only to take a quick bite of something edible in between. Everything hurts by the end of the day, but he made good money and almost all of the cakes are gone.

He wraps up the last leftovers and asks Andrew to drive him home.

*

Wednesday is haunted by a ghost of the previous night’s thunderstorm. Neil turns on all the lamps, but it still feels dark and gloomy, clouds thick and bloated like used teabags. Not a lot of customers turn up, and even Kevin doesn’t seem to be in a rush to get back to his shop. Renee is sitting cross-legged in her armchair, chatting to Allison of all people, and Dan is having lunch in her window seat while playing footsie with Matt under the table.

“Any progress on your special blend?” Nicky asks, snapping a picture of the cake display. Neil tops up Kevin’s Irish Breakfast and sighs, glancing at the rows of tea tins behind him.

“No.”

“Aw, just make it something really sweet and cakey,” Nicky advises. “You know he’s going to like that.”

“It’s not just about what people like, though,” Neil mutters, tracing a coffee ring on the counter.

“Maybe you need to read up on it some more,” Kevin suggests. “I’ll see if I can find another book for you.”

“Thanks, Kev,” Neil says wryly.

The bell above the door twitters as an angry gust of wind pushes an equally angry-looking Andrew inside. His clothes are spattered with rain and his hair looks sideways even though all he did was cross the street. Hail chitters against the window for a moment as the storm bares its teeth once more. Neil beckons Andrew over and gets him a towel and a mug of Irish Breakfast with a generous shot of whisky.

“Andrew! We were just talking about you,” Nicky cheers.

“Go away,” Andrew says lovingly. Nicky just laughs and moves on to pester Matt and Dan, but Kevin stays put even when Andrew glares at him.

“Never mind him,” Neil says, leaning over the counter. “What’s up?”

Andrew glowers, drains his tea in big gulps and wordlessly drops a box on the counter. Neil picks it up and turns it over in his hands. It’s light and nondescript, and there’s no noise when he shakes it.

Neil looks at Andrew and knows, without a doubt, that he’ll find a ring inside.

“Yes,” he says, loud and clear, and: “Let me make you some more tea.”

*

Andrew’s blend isn’t sweet at all. It is rough and smoky like a bonfire, with hints of ginger and spices, but it smells like home. Neil calls it Safe And Sound and gifts it to Andrew the night before they get married.

Turns out it is only the first blend of many inspired by his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/) and tell me about your favourite tea :)


End file.
